


brad/nate - too close

by romanticalgirl



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-08
Updated: 2013-04-08
Packaged: 2017-12-07 22:23:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/753756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For alethialia</p><p>Originally posted 4-2-09</p>
    </blockquote>





	brad/nate - too close

**Author's Note:**

> For alethialia
> 
> Originally posted 4-2-09

They’re wading hip deep through weeds, both of them armed and conscious that every step is likely to be a death sentence. The rest of the team is scattered over five clicks, searching for land mines and a potential Fedayeen encampment. Brad points and looks to his left and Nate nods, moving that direction slowly. They keep three meters between them without effort, dispersed per protocol. Nate knows every line of Brad’s body, so he’s in tune with his movements, knows where and when to step so they’re completely silent.

The shot catches him off guard.

Brad whirls around and fires, a spray of blood coming up from the sun-burnt weeds. Nate doesn’t move, breathing hard as Brad moves toward the dead body, scouting for a second gunman. There’s another shot that seems like it’s miles away and after what feels like hours, Brad circles back to him and lifts Nate’s chin to look at him. “You all right, sir?”

Nate nods and reaches up to wipe his face, surprised when he pulls his hand away and finds blood on his fingers. “I’m bleeding.” He says it curiously, detached. 

“Yeah. He hit your vest. Looks like he caught the edge of the ceramic plate and is shattered. White shards. Hold still.” Brad’s fingers are surprisingly delicate as he touches Nate’s jaw. “You got lucky. Nothing too deep. Must have just grazed it.”

“I got lucky.” Nate laughs once, the sound hard in his chest. “I got lucky.”

“Sir.” Brad’s voice is hard and commanding and Nate looks at him, slightly surprised. He knows he’s dangerously close to hysteria. “We already have one platoon leader who’s fucking insane. Let’s not go two for two.” 

Nate laughs again, more honest this time. “Right. You’re right.” 

Brad presses his thumb against Nate’s jaw then slowly lets it run down to his throat. “You’re all right, sir.”

“Yeah.” He nods then shakes his head. “No.”

“Sir?”

Nate shakes his head again and reaches out, pulling Brad hard against him. His sense go from dead and dry like the grass and air around them to alive, drinking in the ripe smell of Brad’s body, the heat of his mouth. They haven’t showered in weeks and their best attempts at shaving are spotty, so there’s stubble and coarseness to Brad’s skin as Nate’s hand curves along his cheek, fingers beneath the edges of his Kevlar. Brad doesn’t hesitate to kiss him back, his mouth hungry and aggressive, biting and sucking and thrusting his tongue between Nate’s lips to fuck his mouth.

Nate sinks down to his knees, pulling Brad down with him, using his gun to shove rocks and weeds out of the way as they press down against the uneven ground. Brad groans as Nate settles between his legs, thrusting against him as he works his Kevlar strap. Brad undoes his own and then reaches for Nate, pulling him harder against him. “Weapon’s still condition one, sir.”

“It’s not the only one, Sergeant.” Nate braces himself over Brad, his chest heaving as he begins thrusting, feeling Brad’s dick between the layers of uniforms and MOPP suits. “Is it?”

“No, sir.” Brad rolls up into him, thrusting back just as desperately as Nate grinds downward. The flak vests don’t hide the rough rise and fall of their chests, and the frayed fabric at the corner of Nate’s keeps catching his eye, spurring him to even harder thrusts. Brad groans, low and deep in his throat, and his hands fist in Nate’s MOPP suit. 

Nate sinks down onto one elbow, his other hand snaking behind Brad’s head, pulling him closer and kissing him, equipment digging into his skin and keeping them too far apart to do any of it effectively, but determination is part and parcel of being a Marine, so Nate manages, sucking hard on Brad’s tongue as his orgasm shudders through him.

Brad bucks up, his back arched off the ground as he comes as well, his head falling back as he gasps for breath. His body seems to ratchet with every breath and eventually he sinks back down, lips parted and eyes half-closed. “W-we should get back, sir. F-file an after-action report.”

“On this?” Nate laughs and eases away slowly.

“On the dead guys trying to shoot my Lieutenant.” Brad gets to his feet and brushes off the back of his MOPP suit. 

“Your Lieutenant?” Nate asks softly, his breath caught in his chest at the tone of Brad's voice.

Brad just looks at him, his jaw tight and his eyes hot. “Yes, sir. Nobody shoots my Lieutenant.”


End file.
